One of my earliest memories of evangelism was my brother's Vacation Bible School pageant. I don't remember how old we were, but I remember my brother wearing a paper sailor's cap like those we made out of newspaper and holding a fishing rod while singing, "I will make you fishers of men, fishers of men, fishers of men, I will make you fishers of men if you follow me . . ."
What did that mean? I will make you fishers of men?
In the version of the Christian Scripture used today, the clever invitation from Jesus is now "come, I will make you fish for people." It doesn't have the same humor to my mind, but it's message is the same. Jesus has arrived at Capernaum and is watching the local fishermen pull in their nets, trim the sails, whatever fishermen did, and he invites them to drop their nets and come with him to start a ministry of proclaiming the kingdom of Heaven and pull in those people who hear the message and are drawn to it, building a new community with the Good News.
Peter, Andrew, James and John, dropped everything, gave up their familiar, work-a-day lives to become disciples of this young rabbi from Nazareth called Jesus bar Joseph when he stopped by the lake and called to them.
I don't know if I would have had the strength to do something so brave or monumental. In all honesty, I would have said, "Yeah, but first let me finish typing this." or made any number of excuses to delay the departure.
I also don't know if Jesus would have waited in the front room for me to finish whatever it was I thought was so important that it couldn't wait until I returned.
What I do know is that Jesus offers the invitation to me, just as he offers the same to you every day. I think sometimes we're just too wrapped up in life to hear His voice. But think of the new possibilities and challenges, new lives through Christ, when we drop the nets and come along.
And what is this new life? It is life made complete by the love God gives us through Christ.
That love is offered freely and is sustaining; we are guided and supported by love - from the Trinity and from one another.
Come follow me, Jesus invites. Drop the phone, drop the remote control, shut down the laptop, put down the Sudoku puzzle. That's what Jesus is saying to us now. Put aside the concerns and stresses of life and come to me and I will show you there's a better way to live.
Now excuse me while I'll log off . . . .
Go in peace, to love and serve the Lord!
Ellen+
Showing posts with label baptism. Show all posts
Showing posts with label baptism. Show all posts
27 January, 2008
19 January, 2008
Wade in the Water
It's a safe bet that a majority of people raised in the church don't remember their baptisms because they were infants or toddlers when they were emmersed, sealed and marked as Christ's own. Then there are those Christians who for whatever reason weren't baptised until they were older children, youth or adults. I'm in the second category.
Actually, I'm not.
My baptism happened when I was eight years old on a warm August evening. For days I'd been pestering my mother about becoming Christian. All of my friends were Roman Catholic (the largest denomination in town) and I wanted to be part of that exclusive club. Not because everyone else was doing it, mind, but because from an early age, I felt it was necessary for me to be who I was.
Let me give you the back story: my parents were Roman Catholic on my mother's side and Lutheran on my father's. My parents were married in the middle of World War II in a civil ceremony. Because of this, we weren't baptised as children due to the prohibitions of the church in those days.
I pestered my mother with questions about God, religion, Jesus, Mary and Joseph - which is what she used to sigh when I posited yet another question: "If women can't do anything in the church like boys, why did Jesus see Mary first?" - "Jesus, Mary and Joseph, Ellen! The questions you ask!"
I continued my quest for baptism until one night my mother had had enough of my questions and sent me to bed.
I climbed under the covers so my sister couldn't hear my sobbing. When it was quiet and I was sure everyone was asleep, I went to the bathroom and turned on the taps. Filling up a glass of water, I tossed it on my face saying, "Father, Son, Holy Spirit - you're baptised! Amen!"
That's not what my mother said when she came in and saw the water all over the bathmats and tiles.
I didn't mind the week of restriction for payment for audacity. I felt I had done the right thing.
My truly Christian baptism came 34 years later at the age of 42, at my home parish of St. Mark's Episcopal Church, at the Great Vigil. Here I was sealed and marked, and seared - the baptismal water was a tad warm and I was the first to be baptised that evening. The rector whispered to me, "It's a little warm," as she baptised me. I still have a mark on my forehead where the first drops of water landed. I consider it my outward and visible sign.
Why did it take me so long to be baptised?
I went through Roman Catholic catechism and I read the baptismal covenant. Frankly, I didn't think I could keep the promises I was being asked to make: "Will you proclaim by word and exaple the Goods of God in Christ?" Well, I figured, in order to do that, I'd have to be better than others - act better and live a better life than most. "Will you seek and serve Christ in all persons, loving your neighbor as yourself?" For me, it was hard to find a loving Christ in fellow office workers, family members, even myself - and serving them!
For years I struggled with these questions, and then I realized that God doesn't want me to be perfect, just do God's perfect work. Christ said, "Be perfect as our Father is perfect." But what does that mean? God created our world! God is everywhere! How am I able to do that?
Creation is full of little mistakes and imperfections, just like me. God wants me to to strive for the holiness one can only have with a deep and committed relationship with Him through Christ and creation, through my brothers and sisters.
Baptism, I discovered, doesn't make you holy, it sets in motion a wonderful, frightening journey towards the Kingdom of Heaven. Eventually, we all get there. How we get there is up to us and God and it begins with one step at a time, the first when we put a toe in the Jordan River.
Go in peace, to love and serve the Lord,
Ellen+
Actually, I'm not.
My baptism happened when I was eight years old on a warm August evening. For days I'd been pestering my mother about becoming Christian. All of my friends were Roman Catholic (the largest denomination in town) and I wanted to be part of that exclusive club. Not because everyone else was doing it, mind, but because from an early age, I felt it was necessary for me to be who I was.
Let me give you the back story: my parents were Roman Catholic on my mother's side and Lutheran on my father's. My parents were married in the middle of World War II in a civil ceremony. Because of this, we weren't baptised as children due to the prohibitions of the church in those days.
I pestered my mother with questions about God, religion, Jesus, Mary and Joseph - which is what she used to sigh when I posited yet another question: "If women can't do anything in the church like boys, why did Jesus see Mary first?" - "Jesus, Mary and Joseph, Ellen! The questions you ask!"
I continued my quest for baptism until one night my mother had had enough of my questions and sent me to bed.
I climbed under the covers so my sister couldn't hear my sobbing. When it was quiet and I was sure everyone was asleep, I went to the bathroom and turned on the taps. Filling up a glass of water, I tossed it on my face saying, "Father, Son, Holy Spirit - you're baptised! Amen!"
That's not what my mother said when she came in and saw the water all over the bathmats and tiles.
I didn't mind the week of restriction for payment for audacity. I felt I had done the right thing.
My truly Christian baptism came 34 years later at the age of 42, at my home parish of St. Mark's Episcopal Church, at the Great Vigil. Here I was sealed and marked, and seared - the baptismal water was a tad warm and I was the first to be baptised that evening. The rector whispered to me, "It's a little warm," as she baptised me. I still have a mark on my forehead where the first drops of water landed. I consider it my outward and visible sign.
Why did it take me so long to be baptised?
I went through Roman Catholic catechism and I read the baptismal covenant. Frankly, I didn't think I could keep the promises I was being asked to make: "Will you proclaim by word and exaple the Goods of God in Christ?" Well, I figured, in order to do that, I'd have to be better than others - act better and live a better life than most. "Will you seek and serve Christ in all persons, loving your neighbor as yourself?" For me, it was hard to find a loving Christ in fellow office workers, family members, even myself - and serving them!
For years I struggled with these questions, and then I realized that God doesn't want me to be perfect, just do God's perfect work. Christ said, "Be perfect as our Father is perfect." But what does that mean? God created our world! God is everywhere! How am I able to do that?
Creation is full of little mistakes and imperfections, just like me. God wants me to to strive for the holiness one can only have with a deep and committed relationship with Him through Christ and creation, through my brothers and sisters.
Baptism, I discovered, doesn't make you holy, it sets in motion a wonderful, frightening journey towards the Kingdom of Heaven. Eventually, we all get there. How we get there is up to us and God and it begins with one step at a time, the first when we put a toe in the Jordan River.
Go in peace, to love and serve the Lord,
Ellen+
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